Short & Sweet

For Punchy's Baptism gift, Moey took her for the afternoon and a sleepover. I pick her up at noon tomorrow. So grateful. I immediately finished reading Truman Capote's short story, "A Christmas Memory," and took a nap. Then H. and I scooted to my friend Amy's New Year's Open House--with a log blazing in the fireplace and tables laden with sandwiches, cheeses and a tall chocolate peanut butter cake. [I asked the friend who made it, Lori (sp) where she got the recipe--it was from Brown Eyed Baker. God bless the internet.]

Back to short and sweet--as few words as possible to recap my holidays. 

Bad. The broken vintage Santa cookie plate.

Mad. How I felt about it after a 450-mile drive from Maine.

Sad. My regret later, for screaming about it.

Cuddled. On Christmas morning by Punch when H. and Fig crawled back to bed to rest a little.

Fed. Christmas dinner with family: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, my mother-in-law's creamed onions.

Watered. Sitting by the beautiful bay.

Exhausted. Five in a hotel room for a few nights.

Pampered. With Aerin Rose Body Wash from Sis.

Overheated. Had to step out for cold air several times.
Colorful. In my citron Lilly Pulitzer ruffled cashmere wrap. [It's close to Lilly's current Limoncello cashmere color but mine was on sale several seasons back. You might call it Limecello.]

Tested. By a determined little fireball who thinks it's ok to ring a playmate's doorbell cold at 10 a.m. after we were all at a late New Year's Eve party.

Rested. Right now, since said fireball is at sleepover.

Rich. In family and friends.
Worried. About impending bills we couldn't quite pay yet, with all of the holiday expenses. But we will [health insurance included].
Lifted. By big and tiny treasures and gifts, from the cream cheese cookies Sis makes every year--the little spritzers are dainty but rich, in shapes like trees and candy canes, and sprinkled with Christmas-red sugar--to the vest my friend John knitted for his husband, Robert [worn to Amy's party today].
Gifted. With a single good hair day, today, after a string of seven hideous ones.

Flawed. In big ways. My Figgy was trying to talk to me about taking better care of myself. And that can be like poking an angry bear. Granted, we were all driving home from Maine in a crammed car.

Haunted. Briefly, by dark memories of our sick high schooler one Christmas in a Maine house.
Nurtured. By Christmas hymns in a country church.

Regretful. That my grandma Alice's rolling pin fell out of the trunk and the handle broke off.
Warmed. By our Christmas tree, with its bright lights and cherished ornaments, and our red taper candles in angel holders.
Grateful. Because even though H. and I have our baggage and our differences, we have our history, too. And he earnestly fixes the kitchen drawers, glues the tattered car upholstery back up, works hard and has a good heart.

Amazing grace.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Read.
2. Napped.
3. We went to see "The Big Short."